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Alright, here we go...

Oliver's here for his bath!" Lucy cooed as she entered the bathing room, a twelve week old shih-tzu puppy in her arms. Christine turned from sudsing up Maddie, the overweight, old chocolate Labrador Retriever to see Oliver squirm energetically in Lucy's arms.

"Oh my goodness, he's so sweet!" Christine exclaimed as Lucy slid the leash over his neck in the small bathtub.

"I know! I wish I could take him home. Dad just wants to clean him a little and give him a good brush. Apparently this little guy loves rain puddles."

Christine grinned and used her fingertips to rub tearless shampoo around Maddie's graying face. "Oh man, I can just imagine once he gets his adult coat in. That'll be fun to maintain."

Lucy cringed with a slight smile. "True enough."

They worked silently for a few minutes before Lucy glanced over at her, Christine rinsing as Maddie panted nervously. "You have singing lessons today?"

Christine faltered with the hose but quickly fixed her wrist. "Oh, yeah. I do."

"How's that going?"

Christine shrugged and gently ran the water over Maddie's face to rinse off the soap, watching the girl close her eyes and lick at the dripping water. "It's fine. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just prolonging the inevitable."

Lucy laughed slightly in confusion. "And what's that?"

Christine sighed. "That I'll realize it's a waste of time and quit."

Lucy tilted her head, using a small tooth comb to carefully brush out the brown crusties collecting in the corners of Olivier's little face. "Are you not enjoying it?"

Christine shut the water off and grabbed a big fluffy towel. "I suppose I am. Music was a big part of my life as a kid. I should have expected that it wouldn't be the same now. Things have changed too much."

Lucy gave her a sympathetic expression as she soaped up Oliver, while he wiggled and fought her in the tub. "Yeah that's probably not the way you should be thinking about it. Don't you like singing, just for fun?"

Christine toweled Maddie off as best as she could, eyeing the droplets of water falling to the bottom of the tub. "I used to. When my dad was alive."

Lucy was silent for a long moment and Christine grabbed the leash for Maddie. Before she walked out to blow dry her the rest of the way, her coworker stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "You only live once, Chris. Don't waste it."

Christine smiled sadly at her. As she blow dried Maddie on her grooming table, she couldn't help but think that she was worrying a bit too much. How could she not though?

She was without parents. She had the Giry's, of course, but they were their own family, with their own lives. Meg would be going to Julliard in the fall. Antionette was always busy with the theater. She finally had an apartment all to herself and she was enjoying the extra money that she was using to pay rent and bills. She was thankful to finally pay off the last of her father's hospital bills, but it would only last so long. With the exception of holidays, the salon would slow down in the winter and it would leave her with way less tips. She'd probably have money for bills and rent, that was it.

What would she do then?

There was Raoul, she remembered, maybe they could become friends again. She remembered the fun they'd had before her dad had moved them away for a few years. By the time they'd returned, Raoul had been studying abroad in Germany, then went straight into law school. They had lost touch a long time ago... but he was there now right?

They were different people though. Maybe they wouldn't get along as well.

Christine took her first break of the day and sat down in the break room, drinking water and eating a granola bar to keep her going till lunch. Her arms were sore from picking up Maddie who was scared to jump up on the table on her own, but was so heavy that Christine had been unsure if she could lift her.

She pulled her phone out of her smock pocket after a moment and was surprised to see a text message.

Raoul:

Little Lotte, how her mind wanders...

Christine's cheek flushed and she grinned despite herself, replying back with quick fingers.

Me:

Oh my god, please don't tell me you remember that!

His response was instantaneous, as if he'd been waiting for her to reply. She smiled.

Raoul:

I remember all of it, Little Lotte. Your dad never stopped telling us stories like that.

Christine felt a sadness pull at her heart at the memory. How sweet that Raoul remembered her father in such a way.

Me:

That's very true. Now stop calling me that! It's so embarrassing.

Raoul:

No way! You? Embarrassed? You wouldn't even let us sing you happy birthday!

Christine rolled her eyes.

Me:

That's because you sang at the top of your lungs in a public place, horribly off key and practically shouting it at me. Anyone would be embarrassed by that!

Raoul:

Lol! You know you loved it.

"Hey, Christine. You're ten o'clock is here," Lucy told her from the door.

"I'll be right there!" She told her quickly and got to her feet. She threw her wrapper away and took one last gulp of water, looking down at her phone to make a quick sarcastic reply to him, but was surprised to see he had written again.

Raoul:

Let me take you out to dinner. We can catch up and you can tell me more stories of how I embarrassed you.

Christine's heart fluttered in her chest. Could she really? Raoul was nice, handsome and it was as if time had not parted them. They truly were friends from the beginning. Plus, it would be nice to have someone around that knew her father as she did and talked to her about him without being wary... although she knew she had made Antionette and Meg that way from her own actions. She had no one to blame but herself.

Me:

Sure! Be prepared to be kept awhile. You were pretty embarrassing. I have singing lessons tonight, but I'm free the rest of the week. Let me know when.

She stuffed her phone in her pocket, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

oO0Oo

As soon as Christine walked into Marlers that evening, she was stopped by Paolo, the worker in the store, looking frantic. It immediately put her on edge.

"Christine! Oh thank heaven I caught you. Anne won't be here tonight. Her dog got out and was hit by a car."

Christine paled and a hand flew to her mouth in sheer horror. "Oh my god! Is he...?" She couldn't get the words to come out of her mouth. It was too horrible to think about.

"Not that I know of. She called a few hours ago from the vet. The car wasn't going that fast and so he just has a broken leg and some pretty bad bruises."

Christine was relieved he was still alive, but felt awful for Anne. The woman loved Leonard so much, she had to be hysterical with worry. "I hope he heals soon. Poor Anne," she said with a shake of her head. "I... uh guess I'll see you next week then?"

She prepared to leave, but Paolo stopped her. "We have a replacement teacher for the time being, if that's okay. He's an associate from the Garnier Theater and was conveniently here today when Anne called. He offered to take over your lesson."

Christine paused. An associate from the theater? Oh my... he must be good then. But a man? For some reason, she felt like male teachers were always more strict and intimidating. Perhaps that was why she preferred Anne and her soft spoken encouragement.

Even so, maybe it would be a good opportunity. It wasn't every day she was taught by someone from the Garnier. It felt almost magical to think about. Besides, it was just one lesson.

"All right, that's fine. Same room?" She asked with a hesitant smile.

Paolo looked relieved. "Yes! Same one," he paused warily. "Oh, um, I should warn you, don't be alarmed by his appearance or let it deter you. He really is a credible associate from the theater."

Christine was startled by the warning, but said nothing and headed on back. She wished there was a window on the door to the practice room so she'd be able to take a glimpse of the teacher before she entered the room. But alas, there wasn't, and so she carefully opened the door and silently walked inside, shutting the door behind her.

At first, all she could do was stare.

And stare.

"Hello, Christine."

And stare some more.

"Erik?" She gasped in shock. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected to see him anywhere but at the apartment complex. In her mind, she had imagined him to be a recluse and to never leave. But surely he left to go get groceries, right? Or go to work... or something.

"You seem surprised," he commented slowly, his pale gaze assessing her with a thin, straight mouth.

There he was, as always, in his black clothing and shiny shoes; his mask covering most of his face and his dark hair slicked back. He was sitting at the piano, Anne's piano, facing her completely. The room seemed even punier with his long, insubstantial frame.

She wasn't sure what to make of the situation.

"You're an associate of the Garnier Theater?" Out of all the questions she had, for some reason that was the one that came out of her mouth.

"In a way, yes. I hope you're not disappointed. When I heard you were in need of a teacher this evening, I figured I could be of use to you."

Christine tried not to gape like a fish and she slowly approached, her hands clutching her music book tightly against her chest as her heart hammered. "No, I-I'm not disappointed. I'm just... surprised it's you, is all. Not disappointed."

Erik nodded and then glanced down at her book. "May I take a look at the song you've been working on for the concert?"

Christine blinked, remembering just exactly what they were about to do and she scrambled to get her hands to work properly to open the book up to her song. She handed it over to him and he took it with lengthy, black gloved fingers. He maneuvered his long legs around on the bench to face the piano.

Oh god, she realized she'd have to sing for him. It was different to sing for a stranger but for some reason her anxiety grew knowing it was him. What if she squeaked and he decided she wasn't as good as he had originally thought?

A dark thought passed her mind that if he ever thought that, she'd quit singing right then and there - and that disturbed her. Why should she allow his opinion to matter so much?

"It's a relatively easy song. Lower register. I know you have the potential to sing higher. Why have you chosen this one?" He asked after scanning it over and setting it down on the piano.

Christine shifted in her shoes and avoided his eyes while she slipped her bag off of her shoulder to put it down on the chair beside her. "I used to sing higher in school, but years without practice have limited me for now. I've sang this song before and Anne's trying to keep it easier for me until I get back up to where I was."

"Where you were," he murmured back to her in thought and she watched him flex his fingers, hovering over the keys, then hesitated. He glanced back at her. "Shall we warm your voice?"

Christine swallowed a lump and made an effort not to let her nerves overpower her. Scales... that's all, she reminded herself. If she could get through scales, as manageable as they were, then she could get through the actual song and the eventual lesson.

"Um, yes. Of course," she said with a slight nod of her head.

He pressed a note to the piano then stopped with a curse under his breath. She frowned, not understanding. "It's slightly out of tune," he explained in noticeable resentment. "We'll make due. Next time I'll have it perfect for you."

Next time... she froze, staring at his back. Would there be a next time? Anne's dog surely wouldn't be at the vet for a whole week with only a broken arm and some bruises.

She didn't say anything about it for now and followed his cue to begin scales. At first, they were basic, slower scales that gradually turned quicker and more complicated. She felt almost dizzy as he continued relentlessly. She grew impatient, almost angry, when she didn't think he'd let up - all the while, playing the piano with such perfection. It was admittedly distracting to see him actually play the instrument and not just hear it. Even if it was just numerous scales.

Just when she genuinely thought the warm ups would never end, he finally came to a stop. She had just enough time to catch her breath before he was instructing her on how to stand, how to breathe, and where to hold her head. He was meticulous about absolutely everything and then had her running through more scales, different renditions, only stopping her when she fell out of place.

It was by far the most difficult lesson she'd ever had.

Eventually, seeming satisfied for the moment, he slowly turned to look at her, and she watched in fascination as his mouth tilted up a little more, almost awkwardly, and a puff of air left his thin lips. "I don't believe you've been working to your full potential. I'm not hearing the limitation you spoke of."

She wasn't sure what to say, completely blown away by the amount of work he'd managed to put into her voice in just short of thirty minutes. Her abdominal muscles were tensing with the exercise she'd given them and endorphins were running rampant in her brain.

Erik eyed her for a moment longer and then nodded to himself once, swiftly turning back to the piano. "Lets go ahead and work on your song. You only have a few weeks till the concert, yes? Have you memorized it? Altered it?"

Christine felt foolish all of a sudden and a fiery rash grew from her chest to her cheeks. "Um... no not exactly I—"

Erik whirled around on her in alarm, appearing disturbed by the news. "What exactly have you been doing in these lessons? Singing Mary Had a Little Lamb?"

Christine tore her eyes away, unable to meet his accusing gaze any longer. "I... I thought I wasn't ready for anything serious. Anne told me there'd be no pressure. I haven't sung in years and I wasn't sure if it was something I'd still want to do."

"This Anne is coddling you," he denounced. "Your voice is an incredible instrument, Christine. You must use it to its full potential! You cannot be limited to these - this lazy excuse of a song!" He told her passionately, throwing a hand in gesture to the music book on the stand. "Only then will you be able to see just what your voice is capable of. Only then, can you make such a decision and know within your soul that there's absolutely no way you could walk away from it. You have to know this."

Christine was trembling now, feeling a warm sensation on her nose, hinting at tears. She wasn't sure why his words affected her so. Or, it could have been that he spoke the words she desperately wanted to hear. That her voice had life to it all on its own and that she could find purpose with it.

"Christine," his voice grew gentler and she hesitantly met his eyes. Even while wearing a mask, she could clearly see the adamant expression he wore, if by only the limited features available to her. "Do you want to sing?"

Christine paused for a moment, really thinking her answer over. Did she? It had been a question that had plagued her over and over again. It had kept her up at night. His brief praise over her voice that one night had in fact given her enthusiasm, but she was still heavily stuck in a rut and didn't know how to escape it.

"I don't know," she whispered honestly. He went silent and she felt her lips quiver. "What I want is to be happy again. Music used to make me happy. I lived and breathed it. But that was before, that was before my dad - I thought if I sang, that I'd feel that way again, but so far it has just reminded me that no matter what I do, that part of me is never coming back and I'm forever destined to be miserable and alone - but I'm terrified! What if it's lost to me now. What if I have let the opportunity get away from me and now I—" She broke off, an embarrassing sob coming out and interrupting her thoughts.

Christine quickly turned around, putting her back to him to hide her tears. She desperately tried to stop it. She hadn't meant to say any of that to him but after so long of keeping it inside, it had just poured out of her. She hated herself for having some sort of mental breakdown in front of him of all people, but yet couldn't stop the sobs wracking her body.

She didn't hear him move, yet somehow he approached her side and she was startled to see a handkerchief being offered in his hand. Christine was too mortified by her weeping to look up at him but took it, mumbling her thanks, and wiped at her eyes and nose.

After a long moment, she took a shuddering deep breath and turned around to see him sitting back on the piano bench, staring down at the floor impassively.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so upset," she told him, trying to save her dignity, although she highly doubted she could. "I should probably just leave. I've wasted everyone's time."

She made a move to grab her bag but he snapped his head up and looked at her quite furiously, shocking her enough to freeze her in place. "You're going to give up before you've found out? Did you not hear what I said? I could help you, Christine. You haven't been taking lessons. Not real ones." He exhaled sharply. "I will not pretend to know what you have been through or what caused you to turn your back on the music inside of you. However, it is still inside of you. I have heard it with my own ears. I could teach you... teach you to find that happiness through song once more. If only you take a chance on yourself. Your voice is the embodiment of heaven itself, if it so exists. It would be a pity on the whole world to give up on it without truly working it to its full potential."

Christine felt tears well up in her eyes again and she forced the unsteady emotions coursing through her down to prevent herself from sobbing again. She swallowed a large lump in her throat. "I am not sure about this but I... I could try, because I want - I want what you say to be true."

He straightened then, looking delighted and almost alleviated behind the mask. "Then it's settled. I will help you, but I'll need your full engagement. Your dedication is crucial. The music can set you free but you'll need to be devoted to it. Can you do that, Christine?"

Christine nodded. "I will do my best to try."

Erik seemed satisfied with her answer. "Wonderful. Now! Let's begin, or are you incapable of singing currently?"

Christine's body trembled but she strode back over to the piano. "I can sing."

His thin lips twitched and he spun around to face the piano once more, a sudden energy coursing through him. "Then let's get started. Come around here, I want to hear this song you've chosen."

It felt a little embarrassing to sing the song she'd picked out for Anne after their earlier conversation, but she tried to not think about it. He didn't say anything else about the song choice or how she sung it, and when it was over, he merely grabbed a pen from his jacket pocket and began making small scribbled red marks on the sheet music.

"I'm going to make annotations to your copy," he told her. He was left handed. She couldn't read his handwriting very well and had to ask him a few times what he had written.

They went over some techniques and she sang it again several times, with him adjusting her presence and breathing when needed. Gentler this time.

Before she knew it, the hour was over and Christine was grabbing her bag. He stood to his full height and she took the music book from his offered hand, careful not to touch her fingers as he did so.

She clutched the book, genuinely feeling lighter after they were through. "Have you given lessons before?" She couldn't help but ask.

Erik positioned the fallboard on the piano and moved gracefully around the bench. "I have provided lessons to a pair of orchestra members at the theater, but nothing of this caliber," he admitted and she was pleased he had given her an answer this time.

Her previous decision of not wanting to learn about him was swiftly thrown out the window after that evening. Her ever growing curiosity took over. "Do you work at the theater then?"

"I do," he told her simply, but didn't elaborate. Dang. Closed off again. "Would you like a ride home? It's quite late."

Christine tried not to act on her shock by the offer. "Oh, sure. We are neighbors, after all. It'll save me money from taking an Uber."

"Indeed."

Christine followed him out of the back door of Marlers instead of the front, but she didn't question him. She was surprised to see him lead her to the familiar BMW that she usually saw parked outside of her complex. It was sleek, black, and probably blended in with the night pretty well - just like the man who drove it.

The inside was pristine and smelled of leather, with a hint of what she now could place as rosin. It reminded her of what he smelled like when he had carried her up to her apartment. The smell made her insides twist with nostalgia. Did he play the violin?

She watched him climb inside the driver's seat and inwardly laughed at how odd it was to see such a tall man sit in a car. His seat was pushed all the way back and he easily buckled himself while sliding the key into the ignition. It smoothly purred to life.

She was sure that it was the fanciest car she'd ever been in.

"Please buckle your seat belt," he murmured, and she realized she'd been staring. She quickly snatched the seat belt and clicked it, attempting to hide her blush with her hair.

Now that music wasn't with them, she began to feel slightly uneasy with being alone with him. Not that she thought he was creepy or anything, even though she should based on his appearance alone, but it was because his presence filled the car. Her whole body was attuned to his every movement and she couldn't get the complicated lesson out of her mind.

Unexpectedly, the phone buzzed in her bag as he pulled out onto the street and began driving the familiar route to the apartments. The vibration was loud in the silent car and she apologized while she grabbed the phone and looked down to see who had messaged her.

Raoul:

Saturday. I'll find the most embarrassing place to bring you too. Maybe they'll even make you wear a hat if I tell them it's your birthday.

Christine smiled softly in amusement down at the message. She'd almost forgotten about their texts due to Erik.

Me:

I'll tell them it's your birthday first. Don't try me.

She locked her phone and put it back inside of her bag, then looked out the window, watching the buildings pass by and the sky get darker and darker.

"Has something returned you happiness after all?"

Erik's sudden voice in the shadowy car almost made her jump. She noted the small hint of awkward teasing, with a sincere curiosity in his voice. It was a nice and welcoming change to their relationship and it surprisingly set her at ease.

"Maybe," she told him honestly. "I ran into a childhood friend the other day that I haven't seen in years. We're just making plans to catch-up this weekend."

He didn't say anything in response and she tried to fill the awkward silence with something light.

"It's ridiculous really. He and I grew up together, until my dad and I moved away. But before that, we made this ridiculous promise to get married one day. Dumb, isn't it?" She laughed, glancing over at him in hope to see a smile on his face, or perhaps an agreement of how ludicrous it was.

But neither came. His mouth turned further down and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Before she knew it, he had pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex and was unbelting himself.

As soon as she was out of the car, she caught up with him toward his apartment door, and thankfully he spoke once more. She was worried she'd mucked something up.

"If you're serious about singing, I promise to help you," he told her, turning an intense glowing gaze on her. "But you'll have to give it your full attention... no distractions." The last word was spoken with something close to disgust.

"I won't let myself get distracted, Erik," she promised, a little alarmed by his sudden mood shift.

He paused at his door. "Good. Now, I'll need you to take care of your voice. No more caffeine, or sugary drinks. Tea is fine. Peppermint would be the best. Honey can be your substitute for sugar. Also, although I'm sure it's tempting, don't strain your voice on those god awful pop songs on the radio your generation is obsessed with."

Christine couldn't help but laugh at his words, it helped to ease the tension between them. "I won't, I promise. I'll only sing songs you approve of," she tested with a teasing grin on her face. It did beg the question on just how old Erik was, if he was pointing out how much of a millennial she was.

Erik's mouth tightened. Feeling awkward that she once again had failed to make him laugh, she gently moved over to the stairwell. He cleared his throat at the action. "Very well. I... get adequate rest. You'll need it. No staying up late and - I'll know if you do," he said with a gloved finger in the direction of her apartment.

Christine wondered if he was teasing her back or not, and smiled. "Okay, maestro," she joked, just in case. "Have a good night."

His eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. "You as well, Christine."